The Cough-Drop Stone
by Criminal Kye
Summary: Draco was thought dead since he was just six, after becoming lost in Muggle London. But five years later, found alive and living as Drake Williams-Jones, he is brought back to the life he left, and soon everyone will wish they had just let him and new family alone. Harry's quite happy to have a friend in him though. Crack Fic (AmeCan Bromance)
1. The Kidnapping

This here is a full-story adaptation of my one-shot 'A Different Meeting', though some elements from it may not make it into this story. This is actually a bit of a parody of those fics where Harry is adopted by nations. While most of them are pretty good, it does feel a little overused. The story is not set in the same time period as the original HP canon, as a way to make some things easier to pull off, such as Matthew and Alfred's same-sex adoption.

For the sake of what happens in this first chapter, Matthew and Alfred don't look the same. Alfred looks as he always does, but Matthew has an appearance closer to the one he had in the manga. Whether they're still brothers/twins is up to your preference, but will not be stated within the story.

**Most Important Note: While there is minor, playful/joking AmeCan in this, nothing serious will actually happen between them in this story, because I can't write romance that's as innocent as it'd have to play out here, and honestly, it's more fun playing with it than actually having it in the story.**

* * *

The otherwise average day that Draco Malfoy first came into their uneasy and very much deserved care, Matthew realized just how great of a person Alfred could actually be, despite his many, many, _many_ imperfections. Even though Matthew had protested at the time of their crime, he was glad that he nor nothing else nothing had stopped Alfred from tricking that little boy and bringing him into their lives. It didn't matter that they were nations and he was a simple human.

It had been after a meeting in London, in which Matthew found himself mutely walking just behind his much louder companion, post-shopping trip for some already eaten chocolates Alfred would never admit to buying, even if presented with the video evidence. He insisted on complaining about the person who had been hosting, and Matthew was only listening out of thin politeness. He honestly didn't care about Alfred's opinion of Arthur. He'd heard every bad thing that could be said about the man that had raised them both. Could Alfred be just a little less repetitive?

If they weren't in public, he might have summoned his hockey stick and bashed Alfred over the head with it. Or maybe 'Avada Kedavra' him and toss his unfortunately only unconscious body into a trash can so he could sight-see without Alfred's inconsistent rambling in his ears for just a little while. He itched to flick his hand in just the right way and speak just the right words. He hadn't needed a wand since his independence. It made it that much easier keeping his magic from Alfred, both because it made him feel just a bit superior than the American, and the last time that Alfred had seen magic first hand, it hadn't ended well. Thankfully, Alfred had quickly forgotten about his magical population after that.

Maybe a simple stunning and obliviating spell combination could do well enough. That would be nice. Same outcome, just a lesser chance of causing a huge scene.

"And he's all 'America, you-'...hey...what's that kid doing there alone?" Matthew's attention was immediately caught, the words 'kid' and 'alone' ringing in his ears. His gaze quickly followed Alfred's. Sitting on the end of the street, was a boy no older than six.

He had an aura to him most inappropriate for someone his age to have. He seemed so sophisticated behind his apparent fear. His blond hair was slicked back, and his clothing looked like something a parent would force their child into if they didn't see them fit to wear actual clothing. Matthew was the only one of the pair to notice how good of quality the rags were. He quickly placed them as wizarding robes that some areas of Europe wore. But Alfred didn't see a wizard, but a helpless and hurt child.

"What sick parent would do such a thing to a kid?!" Alfred seethed, honestly upset, surprising Matthew. He rarely saw the other blond as defensive of anything, and other than his revolution and certain events during the World Wars, never had it been over something so seemingly serious. He followed after Alfred as the American stalked to where the boy sat, out of concern for the child, because he didn't want Alfred to scare him with his over-the-top-ness.

"Hey, kid." Alfred said with actual concern. The boy looked at them, glaring at the two nations. Matthew was actually taken aback by the intensity it held, but Alfred wasn't faltered in the least. The boy looked away, shaking, and seemed to be getting up to run, but Alfred acted first. "Look, I just want to know where your parents are." Without knowing the consequences it would cause, he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. The boy's reaction was immediate.

"Get your hands off me, you filthy Muggle!" The boy pushed Alfred's hand off him in disgust, and then trying to bolt, only to run right into Matthew, who he hadn't seen until then. He seemed very bewildered by the sudden appearance, of the Canadian who picked the confused boy up, holding him in place, like he often did with Kumajirou before the polar bear had been banished to the dog house.

Matthew didn't even have time to utter a command to Alfred before the boy started fussing. "Let me go! Let me go!" He screamed, attracting attention from the people passing in the street. Matthew knew this had a high chance of going very wrong.

"Unhand that boy right now, young man!" One woman quickly said sharply. People made a move to remove the struggling child from his arms. Even Alfred was seemingly unsure what to do, as he was doing nothing. So much for being the HERO, Matthew thought. Thankfully, being the smarter of the two, Matthew was able to construct a plan in the seconds before someone reached him.

"Yŏu've goht et all wrŏng!" Matthew cried out in a practiced Welsh accent, to give the air of not being Canadian, and to be better accepted by the crowd. "Hē's me sohn. Sōrt of. Me părtnă and I adŏpted hem some time ăgo, and hē's stĕll nŏt adjŭsted too us. Hē ensists on wearin' the rags hēs berth părents fohrced hem ento, and hē sehms dĕad sĕt on gōen' băck too thos 'orrible people. We've ben tryen' ou' bĕst, but we ă stĕll sō yung."

His eyes widening slightly, Alfred managed to slip into the role that the Canadian had temporarily given him, a smirk finding its way on his face, and a rare idea forming in his head. It was a weird feeling, to not have nonsense in his head. He didn't like it, but he could deal with it if it meant saving Matthew, and the cute little boy.

He skipped over happily, and carefully grabbed the boy from Matthew's arms, and whispered semi-threatening words into the boy's ears, stopping his struggle in its tracks. He ruffled the boy's hair to get rid of the ugly slicked back look, and used the odd smelling hair gel to give him something resembling Nantucket, much to his young captive's cries.

During this, he caught a glance inside the boy's robes and saw something written in dark green cursive. Since Arthur's teachings of the annoying and useless style of writing had not left him (unfortunately, Alfred would claim), he was able to make out what was written. A name, probably. Or some kind of clothing brand. His nose scrunched up at how stupid it sounded to him and another left his lips instead.

"Drake, do you really have to run away every bloody time we ask you to put on some better clothes?" Alfred spoke in his worst attempt at some kind of British accent, earning some troubled looks from the gathered crowd. The boy, dubbed Drake, faked sorrow, remembering Alfred's words to him.

"I am very sorry. I simply respect my parents much more than I respect you. I want to go home to them." The nations put up fronts of annoyance towards these words, Matthew face-palming and Alfred huffing. Some of the crowd laughed, or gave looks of sympathy, and began to thin out. Eventually everything was back to normal in the streets of London. Except of course, the two countries now saddled with a six year old child.

Alfred let Drake down on the ground, and the boy glared up at Matthew, before his grey eyes fell back on Alfred, a quizzical look on his face. Alfred smiled down at the blond boy, a mischievous look in his eyes. Drake was trying to smooth out his hair again as Alfred spoke next.

"So what's a Muggle?" Drake froze at this question, his fingers caught in between his now spiky hair, a good look for him. Matthew actually knew the term vaguely, having dealt with British Wizards before, but he preferred calling them the more polite 'non-magicals'. Being that Alfred had no contact with any wizarding population, Matthew didn't expect that Alfred would know the term, so he didn't expect Drake's reply.

"What do you mean? You said you weren't a Muggle when you grabbed me!" Drake looked ready to run once again, having realized that he had been tricked. By Muggles no less! He'd even put up with their little act. But Matthew stopped him by grabbing him again, shocked that Alfred even had the intelligence to think of something such as that, and holding the boy close.

"Please don't make a scene again." Matthew pleaded, and Drake almost didn't listen. Making another scene could get him away from the two after all. But that meant that more Muggles would be helping him, and he'd rather deal with two over many. While Matthew was struggling to understand what could be running through the boy's head for the weird look on his face, Alfred was simply laughing at the little boy's question.

"I told you that so it might make you trust me!, and it worked! Now, seriously. What's a Muggle? You people speak totally different than me. I don't understand your British slangy stuff. (Except wanker...I've been called that enough times to know what it means). The only other time that I've been called a Muggle is when I caught my pal Arthur talking to his imaginary friends one time. He never did explain what it meant, so I'm asking you." Drake continued to glare at the American, and he spoke crisply, in defense of what he believed.

"Those 'imaginary friends' must not be so imaginary. Your 'pal' is a clearly a wizard like me. I request to see him immediately, so he can return me to my own world." He seemed to be as serious as a child could be, which made Alfred laugh loudly once again. Alfred was a firm denier of magic, and believed the boy to be caught up in some make-belief world.

Drake scowled, wanting to rid himself of the stupid Muggles who had dared to stray onto his path, even in a foolish attempt to help him. Eventually, Alfred managed to slow his laughing down to the occasional chuckle. Another idea formed in his empty mind, his heroism kicking in full drive. It was perfect! He grinned, and decided to humour the child before pulling a fast one on him.

"Sure, we'll take you to him! Come on Drake, my child, and Mattie, my love. Let's go see Uncle Arthur!" He turned to walk away, before breaking into a slow run. Drake looked up the flustered and blushing Canadian, looking serious still. It was unnatural for a child to be that serious.

"I demand to be put down. And my name is Draco, not the stupid shortening that your lover person has insisted on placing on me." Matthew compiled, all why saying that there wasn't really anything between him and Alfred, and that it was a lie they often used, which the boy was indifferent to. Both caught up quickly with Alfred, who had intentionally ran slow as not to lose his friends. Matthew took a place beside Alfred.

**_"Are we really taking him to Arthur?"_** Matthew didn't want their young charge to know what they were saying, and he really hoped that Alfred would take the obvious hint. Thankfully, he did.

**"Hell no. If that boy believes in the same things that Arthur does, I don't want that man anywhere near our little Drake!" **Alfred said, looking down at the blond child that was more intent on following them than trying to figure out what they were saying. Matthew raised an eyebrow at Alfred's words, though he couldn't help but agree. But there was something else troubling about these words.

**"Since when did he become ours?" **Alfred smiled at him, his eyes sparkling.

**"You said it yourself back there. He's our kid! We could raise him, be brothers to him. Or cool uncles!"** Alfred gained a skip in his step, while Matthew gained a tired frown. This was wrong, he knew. How bad would it look if a nation committed the crime such as the ones that Alfred was suggesting they do, when they were so against their own people committing it?

**"This is pretty much kidnapping. We really should find his parents."** To make things worse, the boy was a wizard. He parents were probably looking for him, and if the boy's attitude was any indication, they were not very nice to Non-magicals. Unless, of course, Draco was a Squib. His parents could have abandoned him if his was. No, Matthew thought, if he was abandoned, he probably wouldn't have been left in such good condition, or asking to go back. He would have been told to never return on threat of death.

_**"Forget his parents. They must have been bad people! He's ours and that's final!"**_

And it really turned out to be final, as Matthew didn't protest too much after that, though he wanted to. Matthew would always regret not speaking up just a little bit, but it was mostly hidden over the pride of having another child to raise, and thinking about how his 'siblings' had turned out, he hoped he wouldn't fail like he did with all the other children that had been in his care.

It took a while, but Draco eventually stopped complaining about his captors and accepted who he had become and who he would turn into.  
Drake Williams-Jones, a proud American-Canadian that grew up with a loving, and widely different, large family, who would be foolish enough to befriend Harry Potter. Or maybe Harry Potter was foolish enough to befriend him.

* * *

Expect a wild ride filled with dodging kidnapping charges, the ruining of Hogwarts' and many others reputations, attempts to make certain often disliked characters slightly more tolerable *cough* Ron *Cough*, cameos and mentions of other kinds of personifications, and of course the destruction of Voldemort's 'perfectly' plotted plans.

As for why Draco is in Muggle London, other than a bout of curiosity, well, that is quite relevant to the plot. I can't say it now.

Oh and in this story Draco doesn't have much knowledge of Muggles at this time passed the fact that they are below him and not to be respected. He doesn't realize that they don't know about magic.


	2. A Family

Despite not being a couple, Alfred and Matthew will often fall into stereotypical 'husband and wife/mother and father' roles that will be the victim of much mockery later on. This not meant to be a way of undermining the two.

Also, because the idea often annoys me in HP fanfics where Harry is raised by someone other than the Dursleys, Drake will not be super powered and smart just because he was raised by some nations. Due to Alfred being one of the parents, it might be the opposite in the intelligence department.

* * *

The next five years passed eventfully for the new, highly unexpected family, though all that happened is not important at the time. But it should first be known that it had taken over a year to crack through the boy's haughty shell, but Alfred and Matthew knew that they were doing the right thing by teaching him everything his real parents had failed to. He turned into quite the charming boy, quirky and a little panicky.

Eventually, even Drake's tales of wizards and witches subsided, but they knew he hadn't fully forgotten or abandoned the tales that he believed in, since he occasionally called Matthew and Alfred muggles in times of annoyance or endearment. As well, the pages of the sketchbooks they got him often contained wondrous drawings of clearly mythological creatures. And how could they forget the crudely drawn 'Adventures of Lucy the Very Bad Wizard'?

But he never showed these drawings or mentioned his past to anyone but his adoptive parents, and he most certainly would never show them to Arthur, who could possibly make the connection quickly. Alfred had been worrisome for the longest time that meeting Arthur would only cause problems and would destroy all his and Matthew's hard work, and that Arthur would entertain Drake's thoughts of magic, or even take him away from them. But it hadn't happened, as Drake was careful with what he said or did around the English nation, even hiding his accent until the strange mixture of Alfred and Matthew's became his norm. Drake didn't want to go back anymore, and neither nation ever wanted him to leave.

(Arthur never mentioned to them that he knew from the moment he saw the boy who he really was. It would be unreal for him to not recognize one of his own citizens)

Drake's existence had been revealed to the other nations when he was seven, after he'd snuck into the meeting with the slightly annoying but cute micronation that would become his best friend. After he had finally been introduced, most of the world gained a bit more respect for Alfred, realizing that while he couldn't control world affairs or even his own, he could somehow take care of a child without killing it. Matthew was forgotten in the matter, of course.

Drake had taken the news of what his guardians and their friends were quite well when he found out. When Alfred and Matthew had told him one day, shortly after the world meeting, he'd given it some consideration, before shrugging and going back to drawing in the snow. He'd always known something was very off about them, so it didn't surprise him that much.

Probably the most interesting thing that happened took place over a few years time. Drake came to dislike his father for making him believe in all the things he had thought to be the truth. He now knew that not all Muggles were evil, though it had taken well over the first year for that to reach those morals, due to his lack of direct interaction with people other than Alfred and Matthew, and one other person very briefly. For some reason, he believed that they were the only good Muggles in the world.

Now, he truly hated the word Mudblood. He now realized that the blood of Muggleborns were just the same as any other wizard. As any human! All humans were the same, and _most _deserved respect. They could all get along if they tried, even Wizards and Muggles. It had been Matthew and Alfred who put the on-set of those morals into him, but he had come to many of those conclusions on his own. He doubted anyone in the wizarding world would have ever done that for him.

He didn't miss the Wizarding World.

All in all, life was good.

* * *

A week before the anniversary of the day Matthew and Alfred found him alone on that corner, an actually celebrated day, Drake opened his silver eyes to the early afternoon, finally judging himself ready to get out of bed after the long night up watching anime. He'd been dozing for longer than he could be sure, and the fogginess had mostly fallen away from his mind as he pulled himself up, though lingering thoughts of his day dream remained. Reaching over beside him, Drake retrieved his sunglasses, a small pair that had been gift from one of his many uncles.

Out of a years old habit, he also grabbed a pre-filled spray bottle from the side table before placing his bare feet on the floor. It was his way of fighting off the joke attacks his new family often tried on him. He could never tell when Alfred, or any of his family, would try and strike. He'd been caught off guard so many times in the past that he had become a little paranoid. Alfred said that it kept him alert and ready to defend himself in case of attack by burglars, terrorists, or the British. While it was working, it was also quite aggravating.

Once he was sure that no one was under the bed Drake smiled and practically skipped out of the room, holding the spray bottle like he held a loaded gun. He checked every corner before he turned, spraying down the hallway and seeing if anyone made a sound, until he finally made it to the kitchen. The smell of pancakes, good morning, day or night, travelled up his nose, and he sighed happily.

Matthew stood at the stove, having been alone in the kitchen since Alfred had left to deal with some minor issues in Washington. Humming to himself the Canadian national anthem, he placed another pancake onto a pile of extra ones left over from his lunch, just in case Drake had wanted some. That would be the last one for that particular batch. As Drake sat down at the table, playing with his long spiky hair, Matthew turned around to smile at him.

"Mornin'" Matthew said with joy in his eyes. Drake smiled back at him. "Want these pancakes? I made too much batter, and Alfred's not here to eat the extra ones. Meeting with the boss and all..." Drake remembered Alfred mentioning that meeting the night before, so he wasn't surprised. He chose to ignore the fact that Matthew was lying about making too much batter. There could never be too much pancakes when it came to Matthew Williams.

"Of course I'll take the pancakes!" He said cheerfully, his stomach growling. As Matthew brought the plate over to the table, Drake went to the fridge and grabbed out, not maple syrup like Matthew would have wanted, but raspberry jam. Drake didn't like syrup – Maple or fake – all that much, which horrified Matthew. But they had eventually agreed to never bring it up. That is, not often.

"Every single province and territory..." Matthew said loud enough for it to not just be a simple lament, shaking his head, as Drake returned to the table. "They all love syrup on their pancakes." Drake rolled his eyes, not wanting to bring that up. He opened the jar in a mocking fashion, and smirked at his 'Alfred-dubbed' mother. He certainly looked like a housewife wearing that apron, with a bandanna holding back all his hair except for his stubborn curl, that was affectionately called Nespey.

"I'm not like your brothers, and most certainly not like your sisters. Anyways, I'm American." Drake stated frankly as he spread the jam on the first pancake. Matthew chuckled, and shook his head once more. He always saw more of America's influence in Drake than his own. It wasn't even a lack of him being around, since Matthew had actually moved in with Alfred just so they could raise Drake together, and that had made quite a few people back in Canada a little more than angry.

"And when you get sick, you're Canadian. Pick a side." Matthew retorted, with a laugh at the end, pushing the thoughts of his angry friends away.

"Never." Drake laughed himself, and continued along with preparing his pancakes. "And you should be glad I'm not anything like the provinces, territories, or especially the states. Owen's a self-centred asshole, Olivier-Louis is immature and insane, Jet is too obsessed with her appearance, Edward thinks that he has the ability to function like a normal adult..." Matthew listened to every word, drumming his fingers on the wooden table as his son spoke.

"And you're nothing like that?" Matthew asked. Drake put his hands up defensively and giggled. Oh, if Lucius could see him now.

Their next bouts of laughter were cut short by a tapping at the window. Both looked at the source in confusion, and they were surprised to see it was an owl pecking at the window. While Matthew got up to see if there was a reason (maybe the owl had gotten caught on something, eh?), Drake's confusion quickly subsided when he realized what it was all about. Somehow, despite the three living across the pond, an owl from the UK had found him. He should have known that somehow he'd be forced back into the wizarding world. He didn't even have to see the letter to know what it was. He'd recently turned eleven. He was already constructing a rejection letter to Hogwarts.

Then he realized, that by rejecting them, they'd know he was still around. Lucius had once explained to him that the letters wrote themselves, based on a list, so no one yet knew that he'd been sent a letter. He couldn't just ignore it though, he though solemnly, as he also knew what would happen then. That was why he didn't stop Matthew as the Canadian opened the window to see what was wrong with the bird, unintentionally letting it in. Matthew let out a cry of surprise as the owl flew towards Drake. He had to let this happen, lest it only cause trouble latter.

That didn't mean that he wasn't going to squirt the owl in the face with his spray bottle.

The poor bird might not've had anything to do with the situation, and it was never good to be cruel to animals, but he was sort of pissed off. He didn't want to go back to the world of magic.

As the owl squawked over being sprayed in the face, Drake picked up the letter that it had dropped with mild interest. Matthew eyed him only briefly, before attempting to get the bird back outside, a hockey stick conveniently making it into his hands. There had been no hockey stick in the room before then. Drake had stopped noticing these things, and even if he was concerned, he was more set on getting the letter opening done. He broke the wax seal, and quickly skimmed the letter.

Drake had always been told as a young boy that receiving his Hogwarts letter would be the most joyous moment of his younger years, but all he felt then was disgust. Would it really be as simple as that? Going back to the Wizarding World and having his parents use all their power to gain custody of him again? The thought of them left a bad taste in Drake's mouth. While he wouldn't mind seeing his mother again, if he had to see his father's ugly mug, he would scream. Voldemort would probably be preferable over his father.

He scanned the letter over again, and it seeming so innocent and unassuming, like it didn't know it was ruining his life. It was currently the bane of his existence, and he really wanted to ignore it. He could take his chances and send back a rejection letter, even if it could spark an investigation; an investigation his parents would hire someone to lead, but not out of care for him. If he decided to go , he would be forever hounded by all of those that knew of his disappearance.

Either way, it didn't look at all good for him. "Fuck…" He muttered to himself, before going off into a string of Quebecois sacres.

This was not good…

"Drake. What did I tell you about repeating what Olivier-Louis taught you in an attempt to spite me?" Matthew asked, walking back over to the table in curiosity, with the owl strangely sitting on his shoulder. Drake looked up in surprise, having forgotten that Matthew was there. His guardian eyed the letter and the owl that he'd obviously made peace with, somehow. "So what's that letter about?"

Drake honestly didn't know what he could tell him. He'd always assumed Matthew was like Alfred, denying magic like it was the plague. To suddenly spring this upon him, after they'd all agreed to never bring it up again, seemed wrong. But Matthew's gazed, turned worrisome, made Drake tell him then, instead of springing it on him later. He saw it as the right thing to do.

"Well, you know all that magic I used to talk about?" He asked hesitantly, fingering the letter and shifting his gaze. Quickly, Drake spoke. "Well, it really is real and I know you don't believe in it, but you've got too since my old world will be hounding me soon, no matter what I do, and you and Alfred will be in the middle of it! It might be hard to believe but-" Matthew hushed him, smiling.

"I am well aware of magic, Drake." The blond haired boy gaped. Why hadn't Matthew said this before? "Alfred on the other hand, has never really had a grasp of it. I don't even think he's capable of it. I, on the other hand, well, how else have you been explaining Kumajirou?" He laughed to himself, before holding his hand out for the letter. With shaking hands, Drake gave it to him, before falling into a mental rant.

All those years that Matthew laughed at him for believing in magic had hopefully been as a rouse for Alfred. He didn't want to think that Matthew had actually been laughing at him. Again, why hadn't Matthew brought magic up beforehand? They had plenty time alone together, away from Alfred, if that was what Matthew had been worried about. Rationality told him that it was probably because Matthew wanted him to have a normal life, and that was a pleasing enough answer.

"Eh," Matthew tapped that parchment. "So this Hogwarts, I guess it's a magic school?" Drake nodded. Matthew scanned it over again. "I guess it must also be in the UK." He placed it down on the table, obviously displeased. "Drake, eat your pancakes while I think this over, and do a little research on this Hogwarts. And we'll talk about my knowledge of magic later, kay?" After a few moments, Drake broke eye contact with Matthew and reached for his fork and knive. The pancakes had cooled much during the letter fiasco. It didn't really matter to him though.

As Matthew walked out of the kitchen, a pained look on his face and the owl still on his shoulder, Drake started to really consider Hogwarts, and not the public's reaction to his return. He could learn to control his accidental bouts of magic, which Alfred was running out of reasonable explanations for, and learn new magic! But that seemed to be the only good thing.

And people! He'd have to deal with other humans, and not the countries, provinces, territories, states and other personifications he had come to love, and hate in the case of a few of them. He wasn't sure if he would be able to handle it.

* * *

There's still a bit to go before Drake prepares for Hogwarts. Alfred has to make a international crisis over the letter, after all.


	3. Unfortunate Reactions

Ten minutes later found Matthew sitting in his room, writing a short letter. He needed to find out more about Hogwarts, but due to his considerable lack of knowledge of Wizards from the UK, he had been at a loss. He was sure that any message he sent Arthur would be ignored or assumed to somehow be a prank by Alfred despite the latter's obvious lack of knowledge of Hogwarts, so he couldn't take the easy route.

He also wasn't in contact with any of the well knowledged human wizards he knew of, and he decided it would be strange for them to receive a letter from an unknown person. That had left him with only one option that he could think of; one he didn't like at all. He had realized that he needed to contact the people he had been trying to avoid as much as he could ever since he left Canada, in fear that he'd get stabbed with more than a few knives, drowned in the ocean, trampled to near death by a horse, or forced to listen to rants as to why a certain someone should be allowed to become his own country.

The letter he had written was simple. Information on Hogwarts and nothing else. He didn't need a repeat of all the times he had cross paths with the provinces in the past five years, as most of them were beyond angry at him for 'abandoning' Canada. The owl sitting on his windowsill looked expectant, but Matthew shook his head, having remembered that the British used owls to correspond. He didn't need an owl. No one of magic in North America had used animals to send messages ever since a spell had been created to replace them.

He muttered the incantation for the wonderful spell that a Canadian Wizard had developed decades before. It's purpose was simple, and worked a lot like the emails of the modern age. The spell would send copies of a letter to whoever the castor specified, the new letter appearing close to the intended receiver. Almost every North American wizard or witch used the spell, but while it was starting to creep into places in the rest of the world, it had yet to reach the UK, and Matthew doubted that it ever would. If there was one thing he knew for sure about British Wizards, it was that even at wand-point, most would not give up their old customs, even though pretty much the rest of the world had at least started to.

Matthew then waited, leaning back in his chair, as the owl hopped over to him. It found itself a place on Matthew's lap, and refused to leave or let Matthew touch it. He sighed, trying to get comfortable, though finding that impossible with the way the owl sat on his lap. He'd give anything for it to be Kumajirou there instead as it would make the suspense more bearable, but he didn't feel like letting the bear inside. He was glad that Alfred had suggested putting Kumajirou outside whenever he misbehaved. If only he could do the same with Alfred.

Matthew began to lose hope after ten minutes minutes of waiting, but then, in a puff of wispy red smoke, a letter appeared on his desk, folded into what resembled the shape of Southern Ontario. The owl to jumped up and flew across the room in surprise. One would assume, being around wizards its entire life, magic wouldn't have been a problem, but apparently not.

Hoping that it wasn't the expression of hate that the shape implied, Matthew grabbed for the letter and unfolded it. The letter was written in blue ink, though a shade that wasn't commonly found in pens. This clued Matthew in to who had actually replied to him before he had even recognized the scratchy handwriting.

**This makes no sense whatsoever! You, contacting me! So why do you need to know about Hogwarts? It's a British school. It shouldn't matter to you. If you're trying to fix 'your problem', Hogwarts shouldn't even be your last resort. **

Deciding to accept the reply instead of complaining that it was _him _of all of them, Matthew wrote a quick reply, and cast the spell again. The two quickly found themselves in a conversation through notes.

**Well, it's actually that Drake's magical, and, well...since Alfred and I kidnapped him from Arthur's country, and I guess because he never stopped being a citizen, a school there wants to teach him magic.**

It took longer than Matthew would have hoped for the next letter to arrive, but Matthew knew that the content had to be considered. It still worried him though. His corresponder was very cynical, and would do anything to make Matthew feel bad. His worries were proven true with the reply.

**Drake's got magic? No surprise there! I must remember to collect a few bets. Now Drake being English, that surprises me a bit, since his AmeCanadian accent is flawless. This complicates things for you, since if Drake is English, he'll have to go to a British school. Though, if you're up for the challenge, you could always try to find a way around that. But most legal systems don't listen to kidnappers. Sucks to be you, you fucker.**

**I hate it when you're right. So, do you know anything about Hogwarts? What it's like, what classes they teach? I don't want to send him to some bad school if I really have to part with him.**

**I don't really, aside from the fact that the Divination** **Class is crap like every other school that still has it, but the teacher isn't, and I doubt that very much, because Vic's taste in women is what is crap. Vic might know more than he lets on, since he claims to specialize in much more than just his 'magical herbs', but I assume that you sent letters to everyone and that I'm the only one who's replied. I laugh at that!**

Matthew paused a moment before writing his reply. Something told him that he would have to get some 'magical herbs' before all of this was over. He'd have to talk to Washington or Colorado (their human names escaped him) about getting some for him. He most certainly wouldn't be able to get some from Victor.

**You wouldn't have happened to have had some of those 'magical herbs', have you? You seem a little less grouchy, moody, angry, and more willing to talk to me. In English. Still insane though.**

**Non, none of that. Just too much maple syrup.**

Typical, Matthew thought as he laughed to himself, gaining a look from the owl, who had replaced itself on the windowsill. For Olivier-Louis, maple syrup was some kind of intoxicating beverage, that affected him more than alcohol, a drink he could consume a barrel of, and suddenly, he'd drive much better than he did sober. If only that trick would work with the other in-need provinces' driving problems.

Before Matthew could write his next letter, there was a crash from downstairs, and a familar screech. He sensed the wave of magic in the air shortly afterwards. Panic rose in his mind, and he scratched out a quick letter and shouted the spell, leaping out of his chair to make sure that Drake was alright.

* * *

**There's trouble downstairs. I have to go check it out. Ask BC about Hogwarts, will you?**

Olivier straightened his beret and looked down at the bottle of maple syrup in his hands, blinking a few times at the content of the last letter. Talk to Victor Lee? After what the guy did to him months before? Not likely. He'd rather talk to his dreaded geographic neighbour (also an off and on bedmate) instead of his ex-boyfriend, and he hated the personification of Ontario, and loved Vic ever since they were kids. Even the maple syrup rush wasn't enough to make him care too much about Matthew's problem. So no, he would not ask Vic about Hogwarts. Matthew could go fuck himself.

Pleased with himself, he tossed the notes away, and went back to reading his boys love manga.

* * *

Little did Matthew know, the sight he came across when he arrived in the room where he sensed the fresh burst of magic from would not shock him. He actually saw it as cruelly amusing. On the couch of the living room, he found Drake with his hands on his face, his blank-screened laptop on his lap. Matthew was sure he knew exactly what had happened. Drake had dropped it on the floor, probably after it started going haywire. Magic and Technology didn't mix, and a case of an accidental burst of magic had obviously risen.

Drake looked up at him with mournful eyes, a frown on his face. Matthew walked over and sat down beside him. Drake leaned into his favourite guardian and sighed, pushing his laptop to the side. Sympathetically, Matthew put an arm around his shoulder.

"I don't want to go to Hogwarts, and after that, I don't think I even want magic." Drake said, annoyed. Matthew could understand completely. He remembered the frustration he felt when he first started using technology, only for it to go crazy on him whenever he had performed magic within at least twenty-four hours, if not completely stop working. It was a pain, but he learnt to contain his magic eventually.

An idea struck him suddenly. Maybe he could teach Drake instead! It wasn't like he had much else to do those days, with all the power of Canada in the hands of the Prime Minister. They could just ignore the letter and-

"The letters are enchanted, I think I was told once by my father. I didn't think of it until after you left. _They_ know when a letter has been opened and where, and I opened my letter!" He held his head in his hands once again, groaning. "They must know that I'm still around. They'll track the letter, and take me away from you! But I don't want that." Matthew held him tighter as Drake began to sob. No one was taking Drake away on his watch. They'd have to go through the embodiment of a country. Two, once Alfred found out.

He tried to act as comforting as possible, glad that it had been him who had been home and not Alfred. His common-law partner would not take any of this well if he had been home alone with Drake. Either the Salem Witch Trials 2.0 would become a reality, or he'd just act really badly towards the situation, and mock Drake throughout the entire thing. Not very good for either of their psyches.

"It's goin' to be alright. We'll think of something, hopefully. Maybe I could talk to Arthur -if he remembers I exist, that is- about all this. He's the nation, after all. He'd have higher status in the magical world than the stupid parents you used to have." Drake froze, and then shook his head. "What did I say wrong, Drake?" The blond removed his hands from his face, but did not look at Matthew.

"I doubt that my 'parents' would even listen to the nation. They're horrible people. I'm so glad I left them and that you and Alfred found me. I'm always grateful for that." A small smile crossed Matthew's face. Drake had said it many times before, but it was lovely to hear it every time. At a time like then, it was especially charming. It always told him that Drake didn't want to leave him and Alfred behind.

"Were they really that bad?" Drake simply nodded. "Well, I'll do the best I can to make sure that you don't have to go back to them. They're severely bigoted and uptight idiots, right?" Drake nodded again. They never really talked about his parents. "I met one of those people once. I think his name was...Tom Riddle? It was years ago, and I really don't like remembering him because he was an ass, so I'm not sure. If your parents are anything like them, and you have to go live with them, I'll find a way to burn down their house, doing a little dance like Arthur did when he burnt down the White House in 1814." Drake cracked a smile.

"That was Uncle Arthur? Alfred always said that it was you who burnt it down." Matthew laughed, really wishing he could take credit for that. Technically, he had, but it still didn't fit the desire to have actually been the one to set it on fire.

"He barely remembers the War of 1812. I doubt that he'd remember that detail after all these years. I like the looks of fear he sometimes gives me after I've been even the slightest bit passive-aggressive, so don't tell him the truth." They laughed together, and Drake felt much better. This would be something he would miss if he left.

The two fell into an odd conversation, magic completely absent, and before they knew it, two hours had passed, and they were interrupted by a familiar event. The sound of the front door slamming open, followed by a cry of "The Hero has arrived!" sounded through the house, and the two were brought back to reality. Matthew and Drake exchanged knowing glances, before Matthew voiced that they would have to tell Alfred about Drake's magic, or else it could cause more problems later. It was easier said then done.

"Wait, seriously?! There's no way!" Alfred started laughing at the two other males in front of him. "Sure, it would be cool if it was, but magic isn't real. Did England set you up to this? It's a horrible attempt at a prank. Tell him that when you report to him." Matthew decided that he would stay silent, and allow Drake to make his point. It might sound better coming from him.

"I'm telling you da-I mean, Alfred! Magic is real! Look, here's the letter I received from a school that wants to teach me how to control it!" Drake tried handing the letter over, but Alfred pushed it aside in favour of another matter, which had brought a bigger smile to his face. He pulled Drake into an unexpected hug.

"Did you almost call me dad? Awesome!" Drake let the hug go on, while Matthew simply smiled at the scene. "You should call me that all the time!" He let Drake go, and he pushed his glasses up back onto his nose. "So, what's this about a letter?" Drake handed it over without a word. Alfred only looked at the address before freaking out. Confusion and panic rose in his eyes. "What the hell? How could they get it this detailed?!" Matthew tried to help before it got out of hand.

"Well, magic probably. Now, if you'd ju-" But Matthew could not finish, as Alfred was now on his own plane of thinking. If you could call it thinking.

"I knew it! Drake, Mattie! We have to get out of here! Whoever they are, they're watching the house!" Horror crossed his face. "Mattie, they must know we're nations if they're that interested in us. We'll have to tell the others once we get away." He grabbed the hands of his two surprised housemates. "Don't worry, the hero will protect you!" Both Matthew and Drake tried to reason and protest with the close-minded nation, but they soon found themselves in the back of Alfred's car.

"We'll drive around for a bit, maybe stop at McDonald's, before switching cars! That should confuse them!" He said before laughing proudly for thinking of such a plan.

Drake and Matthew looked at each other, both knowing this would not end well.

* * *

For all of those people who think that Matthew would never 'abandon' Canada for anything, do you really think he'd rather stay in Canada and leave **Alfred** of all people take care of a child on his own, who Matthew knows is also a wizard? Didn't think so. Now that Drake will be going off to Hogwarts, he'll probably consider relocating back to Canada.


	4. Found

**The entire Author's Note for this chapter should be read, due to some important information.**

I should probably note a couple things now. 1- I'm Canadian, and I've never left my country and I have little knowledge of the workings of England or America, so please help me if I get something wrong 2- I am not on Pottermore, and I don't always have the books on hand, so if I mess something up, forgive me. Some things might be done on purpose though, to fit better with the plot.

Anyways, Drake probably won't make it to even Diagon Alley for yet another few chapters, and I apologize. For the next couple chapters, we're focusing on the fact that Matthew at least could possibly be charged under magical law for participating in Drake's kidnapping (Alfred would probably just be obliviated). But the Brits can't get Matthew while he's outside of Europe (because I say so), so they have to get someone else on his case. So, beginning to be introduced this chapter is the Foreign Affairs Department of 'The North American Magic Administrative CanAgency [Namaca]' (They actually only cover Canada and parts of America. The other North American Nations have their own magical governments), who I should note really hate the British. And their jobs. Don't worry about them taking over the story. **They will at most be around for a few chapters before becoming irrelevant to the story.**

Also, if you have begun to see holes in Matthew's knowledge of magic, congratulations! You have found another side plot. There's a good reason why Matthew's magicky stuff is a bit splotchy, but I'll leave it to you readers to figure out what it is for the moment.

Disclaimer: I don't own McDonald's, Dairy Queen or Tim Horton's. Consider it free advertising.

* * *

Matthew awoke with a groan, whispering sweet words of Tim Horton's coffee long gone. He breathed in, smelling fresh Canadian air coming in through the rolled down windows. Matthew had always told Alfred, in the case that he needed to hide, that the land north 'beyond the borders of your states' was the best place to hide. He wasn't quite sure if now was a good time to be there though.

Tragically, that welcoming feeling was masked with the smell of McDonald's, following by the quick opening and closing of the front door. Another groan escaped his lips. It had been so peaceful. He went about blindly reaching around for the seat adjuster, as he remembered then that he had switched over into the front passenger seat when he had begun to feel tired, however long ago that had been. Then, as he opened his eyes, he saw the stars.

"Mattie!" A hot twenty piece chicken nugget meal was tossed into his lap, jolting out any lingering thoughts of sleep as Southern Ontario got the heat through the pyjamas he was still wearing from the morning. He glared at Alfred, who looked mildly apologetic, but still highly amused. Any thoughts of using magic on his friend that may have arisen disappeared when Alfred pulled out a Dairy Queen poutine from one of the many bags. "I remembered that you said you really loved it, so I was a cool guy and got it for you!" He said joyful, a large grin on his face. Matthew couldn't help but smile back, thanking the bouncing nation, who laughed and turned to the other occupant of the car, holding out a bag.

"Here's your food Drake. Sorry it took so long. I just couldn't stop driving after we met those weird people in uniforms who tried to wake up Mattie and asked if I was taking drugs." The blond boy looked up, too heartbroken to even comment on Alfred's stupidity, and shakily took the food, before turning his attention back to the blank screen of his computer. He half-heartedly pushed the power button a few more times, before pushing the thing aside completely, and Alfred frowned just a bit, because all that 'wasted' time taken just to go back for it and find the power cord had really been for nothing. It seemed that when Drake had dropped it after his accidental burst of magic, he had broken it some how. He just couldn't admit that until now.

Whether it was games, online articles, or just goofing around, Drake didn't do well without his laptop. From the first time he had gained the full ability to use technology, it had been the highlight of his life. Matthew smiled fondly at the memory of when they'd shown Drake Alfred's phone, and the clear amazement on his face, despite at the time still being very against Muggle things.

"Thank you." He finally said, forcing out a laugh. "So, bacon cheeseburgers with no pickles or onions for me, and thirty Big Macs, ten things of fries, twenty boxes of chicken nuggets and a diet coke for you?" The joke should have ran thin long ago, but Matthew laughed anyways, and soon Drake followed with a natural one. Alfred also joined in, a little out of the loop. But if his family was laughing, he should too.

"Naw, I got us a bag of fries to share. 'nd_, _I got a pepsi this time." With those final words, he slipped into the driver's seat properly and started wolfing down his own food. Drake and Matthew shared an eye roll, before digging into their own food. Matthew had to admit that despite all the McDonald's they were getting would most likely later make him very ill, it actually was pretty good. As long as they were slathered with ketchup and sweet 'n' sour sauce. Which this time, seemed to be missing.

"Boys, I'm going to go get some ketchup and some s'n's sauce." He placed his food on the dashboard, not minding Alfred's 'sorry dude!', exiting the car into the deserted field in which they had parked. Matthew cursed Alfred for being so paranoid that they couldn't have just parked near the McDonald's. He could see the town not too far in the distance, explaining why the food was still warm, but it was far enough that the walk could take a while. Thankfully, he could apparate. He would still have to walk a bit, or else Alfred might see him disappear.

It's really such a shame that due to all his time in America, Matthew had grown slightly disconnected to his own country and its people. Maybe they could have avoided what came next, if Matthew hadn't repressed his ability to sense his citizens due to how many that passed around America on a daily basis. As he walked away from the car, brown eyes followed him from behind a nearby tree.

When the sight of Matthew grew boring and unimportant, the young man turned his attention back to the car, wand in hand. Rubbing his stubbled chin, he smiled cheerfully. The listening charm he had cast on the car from a distance while the American was away and the powerful wizard and his magic were asleep had come in handy. Not at all had it told him why a missing English wizard was on a road trip with a Canadian and an American, or why a Canadian Wizard and an American were laughing and enjoying each others' company. A Canadian Wizard got along with no other culture, especially Americans of any breed. This was very suspicious to the young man.

But he had digressed from the mission. He noticed that the powerful wizard had finally made it to the road, and seemed to be glancing back at the car. At almost the same moment, loud, annoying music started blaring from both the car and his wand. The powerful wizard took this as his cue to apparate, but it only made the young man's anger flare up. He hated that type of music. Give him 'If I Had A Million Beavertails" anyday. But since the music would mask his coming, he decided that this was the time to strike.

Just because he had been told to simply watch the group, it didn't mean he actually had to listen. He wanted to get to the bottom of this quickly so he could go back to being everyone's favourite coffee boy and not having an actual job. Send the coffee boy, they said, we don't care enough about those Brits problems to put that much effort into this investigation. Fantastic idea, Bossman.

By the time he had reached the car, he had already decided on what he would sell. I seemed good in his head, but everything did in that twisted place, especially when compared to what he displayed. Maybe, he thought, it'd be better to introduce himself to the American first, and hope that the man was happy and cheery to strangers too. Finding the courage, he tapped the American on the shoulder, not being able to voice a hello.

Quicker than he could ever cast a spell, the American was out of the car, with a gun in the wizard's face. The young man put up his hands defensively, gaping and wishing he could speak out his cries of innocence. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the English boy, facepalming at the American's apparent stupidity, but not doing a thing about it.

"You're one of them, aren't you?! Those creepy people who I thought were watching my family and me!" So that was why the group had run off? They had a paranoid freak who probably didn't know about magic (since a Canadian wizard never reveals his secrets), running the show? To think, the panicky people in the UK thought that it was because they realized that they could be caught. The request for an investigation had been laughed at by the 'wonderful' people working in the Foreign Affairs department, who had done enough investigation to find out who the 'kidnappers' were and where they were, before giving it to the passing coffee boy, who just wanted to sit down with a nice book.

He didn't realize that he'd gotten distracted until the gun was pushed into his cheek."Tell me, what do you want with my family?" The American growled out, itching to release the safety on the gun. The young man recognized a murderously overprotective look when he saw one. Maybe now wasn't the time to be making friends.

He slid his wand out from his sleeve, and almost as quick as the American had been when he'd freaked out on the young wizard, he had his unfortunate opponent in a body bind. He winked at the English boy who had been watching half shocked and half impressed. The boy shouldn't have been, since aside from his listening charms, that was pretty much the extent of the young man's magical abilities.

'I better not get promoted for this.'

* * *

The name of the wizard, who I should mention is mute, will never actually be used in the text, nor will those of any of the other North American Wizard OCs in this story, unless people feel like their names should be used. It makes them less personal and less memorable, because after their moment to shine, they will be dropped out of the story and forgotten.


	5. Malarkey

I had most of this written down back in September, yet found no time to type it. Then my computer got hacked and stopped working, but I finally gave up and decided first that the library was the only way I was going to get through until I have the money to get it fixed (I'm jobless, for now), so please consider that I walked a long time over the course of many days to bring you part of this chapter, as walking is cheaper than taking a taxi. I should mention that I live in a high crime area (A shooting or stabbing isn't a tragedy but an "Again?". Sirens are met with an "Who died now?"), and I was walking home late at night once or twice, when the weirdos are often out. I actually fit right in. Then, I stole my sister's laptop, and many of you should know how crazy pre-teen girls get about their things. Ouch.

That's how much I started to care again about this story.

You better enjoy this, for my sake.

* * *

If there was one thing Drake could say about all this, it was that it had taken an annoying amount of time to reach this point. Alfred wasn't with him anymore, and he was now in a room that was filled with things too young for his maturity, but he'd taken a shining to them, especially this yellow stuffed cat he'd named Scorpius (A toy that he intended to keep!) It helped with the crippling loneliness and fear of being in an unfamiliar place. Alfred had been dragged away to a special holding because of his erratic behavior towards the wizards that had captured them. He didn't even have Matthew, as from what he had heard, the nation hadn't been found when the wizards had done their scope of the area. Drake figured it was because Matthew had figured out what was going on, and had hidden himself until he had a plan - or even his own magical government couldn't see him. At least Matthew was safe, and that was a small comfort, but it didn't stop him from feeling vulnerable. He wouldn't be alright until he had both of his parents back.

Alfred and Matthew's desperation to help him with this problem that had started everything had made him realize finally that he'd rather call them his true parents over his biological ones. They certainly cared for him more than his old parents had. His mother and father had filled his head with lies, while Matthew and Alfred had filled it with wonders, some beyond his understanding, but amazing no less. If these people thought that taking him away from them was a good idea, then they were wrong. Drake would be devastated if that happened, and Alfred and Matthew would never let it get that far, even if they had to cause an international crisis. Hopefully this would all work out in their favour without too much fuss between countries.

People had been in and out of the room for hours, some to bring him food, for a while others to ask if he wanted to be brought somewhere with a bed to sleep, but he declined, even as the hours slipped into morning (he'd be lying if he said he hadn't slept at all that night though). At some point where the sun was starting to get quite bright through the window, the young man who had gotten them captured in the first place came in, looking tired, but buzzed off of coffee, and through written words and well tried drawings, explained how very sorry he was, and also how Alfred wasn't faring well in the room they had put him in, and was starting to grow immune to the stunning spells they tried to use on him to keep him from rescuing 'his son'. He had also sent four interns to the hospital. Drake explained that he'd probably calm down if they at least fed him every half hour, got him some video games, and it'd be great for him if _they actually let him see Drake. _The young man wrote that he'd see about maybe slipping the boss a note concerning that with his morning coffee, which he really needed to start delivering, so again Drake was left alone in the room.

He began entertaining himself for the next few minutes by closing his eyes and pretending he was in the bottomless pit from his and Alfred's favourite cartoon. Telling stories to himself was fun enough, even though he wasn't much of a creative type, but it did bore after a while, when he lost track of the adventure where he had met his cartoon heroes when they had ended up in his Wisconsin home while chasing a terrifying monster.

This was just one big mess. Why was this taking so long? If they were going to give him back over to his parents, why hadn't they done it already? Not that he wanted to be separated forever from his adoptive parents. Never that. Please, not that!

He was left alone with these thoughts for what seemed like countless more hours before the door finally opened revealing a short statured man in flannel who looked like he'd rather be anywhere but here, as he twisted a ring with his finger, and gave Drake a grimace. Drake glared up at him, holding Scorpius tight. Aside from the only seemingly human personifications, and the brief nod of acknowledgement he had gotten from Saskatchewan's human boyfriend some years ago, these were his first true interactions with other humans since he was six years old.

This terrified him, though he tried not to show it.

"Let's..." The man gave a deep breath, before approaching Drake. "Let's just get this over with." He pulled up a much too small chair with a peeling griffin decal on the back's front. He tried to avoid eye contact as he wondered what to say (Kids were not his thing, as his wife would often complain about to her friends), but Drake kept his eyes on him, trying to look for a weakness. A voice at the back of his head that told him to just make this easier on the man, and to co-operate would allow it to be all be over quicker. It sounded suspiciously like Matthew's voice. He sighed, accepting his fate, choosing to make conversation with the wizard, who was fondling his ring again.

"So, what's your job, Mister?" He asked, trying to come off as friendly. The wizard looked at him finally, before grumbling and summoning a clipboard with a sloppy wave of his wand and a slurred spell. Maybe the lack of effort was why the clipboard was a circle. Maybe.

"It's my job to interview you, and find out just what the fuck is going on here, since now that we have you in custody, we don't know what to do with you. We definitely won't just give you to the Brits, because we here at NAMACA pride ourselves on being stubborn bastards no matter what department we are in. We have to at least make an effort to pretend we like having to deal with the affairs of an area with so many magic types. It's horrible. I'm actually from the Quebec division, which is like..." He trailed off, realizing his was getting off topic. "Anyways, I should actually be trying break up fights right now, but here I am on a favour for my wife in the Foreign Affairs department, since I actually know a bit about this whole human-country or whatever business thanks to that bitchface Olivier-Louis being friends with my wife and always eating my food." He straitened up, letting out a quiet hiss. "So tell me kid, how exactly did you end up in North America with two country beings, and how can we use it against the British?"

Drake was unsure of what exactly he should say. Did he start with Matthew and Alfred finding him, or before? 'Before' might be more incriminating, but he was sure he didn't remember enough for it to be considered credible. He didn't even know if he could trust these people with what he knew. It was all too confusing for the eleven year old.  
Since Drake was taking a bit too long to reply for the man's patience, he went another route.

"Okay boy, let's start with names then. Mine's not important, but your name is everything." They already knew it, his legal name, but the man was curious as to what name the kid used now, if it was any different. "Also, are you happy living where you are?"

"My birth name is Draco Lucius Malfoy, but ever since I was young, I've considered my name to be Drake Artcis Williams-Jones." His name would be the only thing on the page that wasn't written in undecipherable printing, that only the man could read, and even then he had his trouble with his own writing. It would make it even easier to bend the truth when he reported to the 'Bossman', as he was called in this department. "And yes, I am happy where I am, with who I'm with. I don't want to go back to my birth parents. They're...they're...malarkey!" He dramatically declared. It brought a smile to the wizard's face.

"Malarkey? That's a tough word for someone as little as you!" Drake pouted, more cutely than he had intended. "Do you even know what that word means?"

"Umm..." Really, Drake had only heard it on television before, first years ago when Alfred had started his introduction to the Muggle world of television. He figured he was using the right context, but the man made him doubt his words. "What does it mean?"

"It means nonsense talk, or just plain nonsense, kid. Don't go and try to use big words just yet, or you could make a fool of yourself." Drake peered down at Scorpius, the stuffed cat's dead eyes looking back up at him with a mocking look. "Well, let's get back on business."

After a bit of prompting, Drake began to tell the man, who wrote it all down with a smirk, of just what happened. He'd grown up with all these tales of how bad Muggles were, but in all honestly, he was curious to see if they were the mindless animals his father talked about. They could have made good pets after all, since all Dobby did was hit himself when he failed to catch the ball. So when Lucius had taken him along when he went to get a drink before taking a trip to Knockturn Alley, he'd slipped away and went out the door that Lucius had foolishly mentioned, with clear disgust, was the entrance to the Muggle world, and he'd gotten lost. Just when he was starting to get really scared, Alfred and Matthew found him, the only people to actually pay attention to him until he had made a scene. They pretty much kidnapped him then, tricking him by saying they were going to take him to a friend of their's. But he no longer cared, since their were his real parents now, and taking him away from them just because they weren't his biological parents was wrong.

After a mutter of 'Stockholm Syndrome', the man asked more questions, which Drake answer very eagerly. No adoptive siblings, though his honorary cousin, the little Nunavut girl, often stayed over whenever there was too much fighting between her parents, North West Territories, and Ontario/Owen (NWT had a human name, but it was so weird he couldn't even say it properly, let alone spell it), and Kumajirou was like an annoying younger sibling sometimes. His favourite things were drawing, reading, and playing on his computer. There were some questions relevant to the situation thrown in, but they were practically unnoticed by Drake.

By the end of the hour, he had painted a perfect picture of Alfred and Matthew -and an ill picture of his old parents-, and the man had more than enough evidence to have the Brits crying at their defeat. Sure, they had a good reason to want one of their own back, but they had ruined everyone's day when they'd sent that owl, when the Foreign Affairs division had just gone three days without causing any trouble for everyone else. Really, they should just fire the lot, but that would just cause even more trouble, since no one wanted to work in Foreign Affairs.

"Okay, Drake, I think that is enough, for now at least. I'll go talk to the losers in this division about this." Giving him an affectionate pat on the head, he got up to leave, and Drake was a bit sad that he'd be left alone. "By the way, is there a way to please your father?"

"Which one do you mean?" The man smiled, especially at the acknowledgement that the self proclaimed hero was considered a true parent, though it did trouble him that the boy didn't realize immediately who he meant.

"The one currently asking where you are, having chewed off the gag we put on him...somehow." He laughed without any humour in his voice. Yeah, that sounded like Alfred, Drake thought. And there was nothing that could stop Alfred in any way, except winning. Oh, Drake remembered how upset Alfred had been when his favourite cartoon had ended. He hadn't stopped being more irritating until he got himself a meeting with the creator of the show, who, amused by him, drew him a few free drawings of the characters, and gave promises that Alfred would enjoy his next show, which he did. Alfred still missed the first show though.

"Could you take me to where he is?" Drake asked, heightening his voice just a bit, in an attempt to sound cuter. Even though the man had actually warmed up to him and would have taken him anyways, he didn't know that. He did know that acting cute got him a lot of things. He'd even gotten Olivier-Louis to get him ice cream once!

"Yeah, I'm sure no one would actually mind. Don't know why they even separated the two of you in the first place, cause that's pretty stupid of them." He reached out a hand for Drake to help him up, but Drake brushed it away.

"I can get up myself." Scorpius was grasped in his mouth as he pushed himself up and stretched, and Scorpius returned to his arms. "Now lead the way to my dad!"

* * *

Remember, Drake's only eleven in this story (despite his habit of swearing a bit, which'll get him in trouble sometimes), and also has lost most of the formality driven into him by his parents, and while he is mature in some ways, other ways he is not. As he gets older, he'll probably start getting a better personality and understanding of things.

That coffee boy has kinda grown on me, but that doesn't mean that I'll expand his role in the story. That little bit was his last appearance. For those that do want a name for him or have any questions for some reason, tell me in a PM or maybe a review, and I'll gladly tell you what I thought up. For those that don't, he will remain nameless. This is so people who don't want a name to associate with him won't have anything. Anyone curious about this chapter's OC is free to ask as well.

Some Things:

Why does the MAD Family live in Wisconsin? My best friend lives there, and I think it's a nice enough state. That's why.

I've decided that this story is set in 2021, in a slightly alternative universe from ours and the canon universes. Everyone good with that?

Drake's middle name is a combination of Arthur and Francis. Matt and Al couldn't agree on one, and Alfred suggested putting them together (in another context, but it gave Matthew the idea).


	6. Extra - Mini Stories

Since the next chapter is bound to take a while for the reason that I've never written some of the characters that are showing up, take some mini stories set in this universe that I wrote in my free time/insomnia to tide you over.

There are also some Next Gen kids of Harry and Drake mixed in here, but none of it is to be considered canon in this universe for now. It's mostly just fun with the concept. They differ from the canon children slightly in their names, in their personalities, and maybe mothers. Meaning we now have Scorpius Ursa 'Cori' Williams-Jones and 'Al' Potter. Mind the ' ' of that name.

**Plus, the Provinces make some appearances. **I know I really shouldn't, but I honestly love adding the provinces to this story (I don't know much about the states, so don't expect any of them to appear in the near future). None of them will ever make main character billing, but they're fun as side and joke characters, right?

(Oh, and I lied. Coffee Boy makes an appearance in this set of stories, so last chapter wasn't his last appearance)

* * *

Not Natural

"When I said she was hot, I didn't mean that literally!" Alfred screamed at the TV as the woman burned up. Draco uncovered his head from under the Captain America blanket that was covering the two, mouth a gape. He had to watch the the episode with Alfred in his room, because Draco had been trying to escape more often recently, and his captors didn't want him out of their sight now. Even if it meant showing him the horrors of Muggle moving pictures with sound, and it was actually pretty terrifying for the six year old, especially because he wasn't sure if it was real or not. The fire was subpar in quality compared to magic fire though.

With his fear and disgust mixing up inside him, he didn't notice, and neither did Alfred, that Nantucket was starting to smoke a bit, due to a little accidental magic brought upon by fear. Neither noticed actually until it had been completely on fire, too entranced by the show, when Matthew dumped a bucket of water on Alfred's head, mumbling something about 'it being all over the news'.

* * *

The Different Next Gen

"I got your first name from an old stuffed animal of mine." Drake had said to the curious son of his, who couldn't find the words to ask more. He knew his father was a bit childish, but wasn't this a bit much? "Yeah, Scorpius from the cat toy, Ursa from the Dipper constellations, and obviously Williams-Jones from me. Calling yourself Cori is all you though."

Cori had seen it as weird and kinda unnerving and of course he immediately got on the phone to complain to the one and only Al Potter, who he had been sure at the time would give only comforting words. This was a false assumption.

"I disagree, Cor. Your name is great compared to mine. Much better!"

"What're'ya talking about?"

Hedwig Dobby 'Al' Potter wished it was possible to slap someone through the phone.

* * *

The Knowledge of a Quebecois

"So you are Mathieu's new brat, oui?" Olivier had a tight frown on his face. His red eyes were dark and scary for the eight year old boy, and the deep scar running from his forehead to just above his left eye didn't help much either. "You're human. Does Mathieu remember that humans only live about eighty years?"

"You're like him...not quite human and very old?"

"Centuries old. I saw the comings and goings of many people who could have been like me, had the circumstances been in their favour, only for them to fade away as if they were the mere humans who built us and tried to control us. I saw the people who I know today grow up. I saw the sweet boy that Owen was turn into the douchbag he is today. The same boy who, when Manitoba formed, and against the wishes of others, tried to take care of young Winifred. I saw with my own eyes how beautiful British Columbia was before anyone else called him that. Charming and funny, hard working too. But that's gone now too, but my heart can not let go. Even Mathieu's begun to change, and he was always a constant." Olivier sighed, shaking his head. This was not the time to talk about his feelings

Drake blinked a few times, taking in as much as he could of that. It wasn't something he could easily comprehend ."So, you know a lot of things, since you're so old, right?" Olivier scowled at the second 'old' comment. He was aware that he was old in years, but comments about his age often annoyed him with repetition, especially because he only looked about 17 years old.

"Yes, I do know much about the world." Olivier's main goal for grabbing the boy from the backyard of his home was to find a way to taunt Matthew. Since he knew 'a lot of things', there had to be something that would royally piss his brother off. Should he tell Drake where human babies came from? Tell him in graphic detail of the time Matthew...no that would be a bit too much for a child. He'd save that one for when Drake was older. Like, on his deathbed. He swore in his head, as nothing he thought of was worthy of the punishment he thought Matthew deserved. It was the swearing in his head that finally gave him an idea.

"Neveu, I'd like you to repeat after me..._tabarnak."_

* * *

Owl and Bear

The house was silent. Too silent. Kumajirou knew that the guy who fed him's best friend...boyfriend...brother...Kuma didn't really know what they were, but they were close and they moved in together...anyways, he was supposed to be home by now, and it was always loud with him around. Kumajirou would have found comfort in the extended silence, had it not been for the fact that it wasn't right. His instincts told him that something was wrong.

He entered the kitchen, and jumped back when he saw something with feathers sitting on the kitchen table eating left over pancakes. He squeaked, and the bird turned his head to look at the miniature polar bear.

"Who are you?" Kuma asked, fear evident in his eyes.

'I am Eugene.' The owl replied, somehow. It's impossible to tell how this conversation occurred. 'And who are you?'

"I'm Kuma...Kuma something. I can't always remember."

'That must be troublesome.'

"It is," The polar bear admitted. "Would you happen to know why it's so quite?"

'I do. All those humans left. And after the trip I took, I believe that I deserve to rest, so I will be remaining here for the time being.'

"At least I won't be all alone. They left me."

If owls could smile, Eugene would be. 'Well then polar bear; This human left much to eat, so how about you join me to eat?'

And a beautiful friendship was formed.

* * *

The Different Next Gen 2

It was finally time for Cori to go to Hogwarts. He and Al had tearfully said goodbye to their parents, before boarding the train to Hogwarts. They sat together on the train, Al obsessing over his new ferret, and Cori just content listening to his best friend talk. When the excitement finally wore off, Al curiously asked,

"So what animal did you bring?"

"Well, I have the family eagle, who'll bring me mail from my grandparents, and Grunkle Arthur lent me an owl for other things. But then I also have this cat that Arthur gave me too!" He pulled a big fluffy white cat from somewhere, and displayed it to Al. Al could tell that the cat wasn't that pleased.

"What's his name?"

"Grunkle Arthur said his name was Frog. I don't know why though."

'Angleterre is going to pay for this. This is far too much.' The supposed 'Frog' cat thought, jumping off of the boy's lap and going to sulk in a corner. Yes, one day.

* * *

Coffee

To say he was content with his life and job was an understatement. His boyfriend made enough money to support them in the non-magical world, and he made enough as the coffee boy for the Foreign Affairs department to buy what little he needed in the magical world. He worked only in the early mornings, and often later at night, leaving the rest of the day open for time with his boyfriend, or reading a new book. It was the perfect lifestyle for someone like him, both mute and off-put by more than a little work.

He'd just placed the Bossman's evening coffee on his desk when his perfect world shattered.

"Hey kid," He was twenty-three, dammit! "I need you to do a job for me."

_'Get you a **second **cup of coffee?' _He signed.

"No."

_'Some tea instead?'_

"Look, I know you well enough to know that this is going to kill you, but..."

_'I'm getting a promotion?!'_

"No. I just need your help with a recon mission. " No...no...no! Stop speaking. No! "The Brits have come to us with a problem, but we don't want anything to do with it, but somebody has to do it. You know, take one for the team..."

_'I quit!'_

* * *

A Soft Side

Something that Matthew never realized was that while they had all come to despise him, the Provinces loved Drake. And the thing everyone else was surprised over was Sam's clear adoration of the young boy. The normally cold, monotonous, and violent Saskatchewanian always had one of his rare smiles ready for Drake when he'd show up in the backyard, often bringing along perogies he'd prepared himself for them to share. Drake saw Sam as being the kindest of all the Provinces. Every other one annoyed him in some way. So he was quite surprised when he found out that Sam was actually the cause of most of the permanent injuries the other Provinces had.

"I ate his perogies, and then hid his knives. I missed one." Vic muttered regretfully as he lifted his long hair, which was hiding a long scar that went from just below his shoulder, through the sun of his British Columbia flag styled tattoo, to the back of his head.

"My social life is dead thanks to him. All because I called his truck a piece of junk, and said he should get rid of it." Liam, Sam's Albertan twin, explained, but he didn't go into more detail, only looking down at himself in regret.

"He's never attacked me, since he likes me a bit. But he's left enough mental scars that I feel like I've been marked." The Metis Manatobian said, before breaking down in tears.

"He stabbed me in the throat because he said I was talking too much. I haven't been able to sing properly since." Owen proved this true when a song he liked came on the radio Drake had dragged outside.

"I called him a fucking tit for neutering Alberta." Olivier said pointing to the scar on his face.

But aside from the occasional bop on the nose, he'd never laid a hand on Drake. For a while Drake thought it must of been because Sam didn't want to face Matthew and Alfred's wrath, but an encounter proved that Sam didn't fear anything but police officers. So what was his deal?

"Because the day I met you, there was no fear in your eyes. Most humans distrust me from the moment I meet them. The only other person who didn't fear me from the beginning is my now boyfriend Sal, and that's because when we first met he was trying to dump a body, and I offered to help. You were so used to the other Provinces popping into your yard that you never considered that maybe one of us was dangerous. You make me happy."

"You make me happy too, Uncle Sam." The eight-almost-nine year old Drake said before taking another bite off his plate of perogies. "I don't know why the other Provinces don't see how nice you are." Sam's eye twitched.

"The thing is, it's very hard to be nice to a band of goddamn idiots."

* * *

The Different Next Gen 3

"Potter, Hedwig"

"I swear if anyone calls me that freaking name at any time, I am going to scratch their eyes out!"

* * *

Somebody

Six-almost-seven year old Draco entered the kitchen to find a new voice had entered his house.

"I have to say Matthew, you are much better company than Flying Mint Bunny. She and the others have made others think I'm completely mad." In Draco's now normal spot at the table, a green-eyed blond sat drinking tea, and making conversation with Matthew. Both looked up at him, hearing his entrance. Draco was annoyed. He'd now only just started tolerating Matthew and Alfred, and now there was another muggle he might have to with. He saw it as a personal offense that the man was even let in the house.

"Oh, who is this lad?" The unknown muggle asked. Matthew blanched.

"Umm...he's a kid that Alfred took custody of! Yeah, and I've been helping him. That's why I've been staying here so often lately." Matthew forced a smile. "His name is Drake." No, it's not, Draco thought, and it crossed his mind that he could use this muggle as a chance at escape. If he knew that Draco had been kidnapped, he could alert the proper people, and he could...he stopped. It struck him that Matthew and Alfred would be punished. He may have started to like the two of them just a bit, and he knew his parents wouldn't go easy on them.

He walked over the muggle, who gave him a calm smile, and their eyes met. "Hello, Drake. My name is Arthur. Arthur Kirkland." The memory of his first meeting with Alfred and Matthew triggered then. Was this the Arthur that Alfred had mentioned before? The wizard they unknowingly knew? Maybe this really was his ticket out.

"Actually, it's-" There was that feeling again. That conflict. Tell Arthur his real name, which would get him back to his old life that he wanted back no matter how lonely it was sometimes with only Dobby for company, or go with the lie and suffer with the muggles for that much longer? A pleading glance from Matthew decided his answer for him. "-Drake _Jones. _You gotta have the Jones! It's the best part of the name." That seemed totally natural to him; and he hadn't even used his real accent!

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Of course." The smile remained.

But after Draco crossed to the other side of the table to bother Matthew, Arthur's smile dropped.

He's one of mine, Arthur thought. Alfred took one of my little ones. Draco Lucius Malfoy, between age six and seven...more images of the boy flittered through his mind, and slowly and reluctantly he became convinced that maybe it was a good thing that Alfred and Matthew had taken the child.

* * *

Drake totally learnt almost all his swear words from the Provinces. I said it, now it's canon. Ha, ha.

**This story is past 10,000 views, **some how, but thanks to you few that stayed around since the beginning, and to all you poor souls who got sucked in after my half a year hiatus. It's more than I deserve, but again, thank you. Despite having so little chapters,** this story has gotten 46 reviews(!)**, but has also caused me to fail a required class for school (because I was failing already, and I used my catch up period to instead finish writing the last chapter) among many other things, but I'm most off put by that math class...so the fact that people are still reading is awesome! Thanks again.

Well, until the next chapter (where we get to see those very anticipated canon characters that aren't Alfred, Matthew, and Drake, and see the end of those OCs for good), I bid you farewell.


	7. Reunion

**I'm so sorry. I had to get my hands on the first Harry Potter book again, which took longer than you'd think, even with a library card. I am most certainly not too broke to pay late fees!**

That, and I've been distracted by many things, though I won't bother you with the details. But my computer has finally been fixed, so I no longer have to risk physical injury to write and I can write more often!

**I originally intended for the other Harry Potter characters to start appearing this chapter, but what I wrote for that part seemed like it needed to be made its own chapter, so next chapter is when a certain awesome teacher will make her debut, and the OCs, including the provinces, will be gone forever. **

* * *

"Idiot. He's an idiot. Hoser, waste of skin! When I find him, I'm going to punch him so much even Alaska will feel it! Then I'm going to hug him because I'm so worried...and then I'm going slap him for making me so worried!" Matthew took an angry bite of his reheated poutine, and then slammed his fist on the table. "He had no right to take off without me, especially with Drake. Though, I would have been pissed too if he had left Drake."

"You know, maybe you're...overreacting?" Winifred took his chance, and immediately regretted it. As the personification of Manitoba, he always tried to be nice, friendly, and most of all a peacekeeper, but as he'd neither been in a proper relationship (or whatever Matthew had with Alfred. The bets were still going strong among the provinces) or a parent, he couldn't quite understand just what Matthew was going through.

"Overreacting? My idiot best friend seems to have taken off with our kid, and I have no way to tell where they've gone!" Matthew covered his face with his hands. "I bet I'll get blamed for this somehow. I always get blamed for Alfred's mistakes."

"That would be ridiculous! This isn't your fault, Matt. There has to be a good reason why they'd be gone...didn't you mention wizards were after you guys?" Matthew peaked a violet eye through his now looser fingers.

"That's what Alfred was freaked out about. They aren't really after us...right?" His hands fell to the table, and something dawned on his face. "Winny, I need to borrow your phone. Do you have Vic's number? I need to confirm some things with him. Magical things." Winifred was quick to give Matthew both things he wanted. "Thank you." Matthew said as he called the number. "Hey, Vic. It's Matthew. No, stop being bitter. I'm sorry. I'll make it up to all you guys soon, okay? Good. Anyways, I've never been big on keeping track of them since they're slightly more efficient at looking after themselves than the non-magicals, but just what can you tell me about the magical high points in Canada? Like, government stations and such." Matthew was silent for a bit while the British Columbian fiend at the other end of the line ranted. "Is there any around Manitoba? Yeah, I know floo powder would make it possible to go to any of the places, but that's not the point. How about Ontario? What?! I would have thought there'd be one. Moose Jaw, you say? Those tunnels? What's there? Oh...I'll take that as my answer Vic. I'll call again if it turns out I'm wrong. Okay, yeah, goodbye." He ended the call and handed the phone back to Winny.

"Moose Jaw? Why would anything relevant be in Saskatchewan? You'd think some place like Alberta or Ontario would be better for a potential show down with wizards." He wasn't magical himself, but Victor was and he was often at Winifred's house. As were Olivier-Louise, Owen, Sam, and the Atlantic Provinces, to some extent, but he didn't think Matthew had figured out specifically who had magic and who didn't. They were all aware of magic though, and Winny had witnessed a few battles that contained it, and couldn't imagine Saskatchewan as a place for dramatic happenings.

"But there's really nothing in Saskatchewan other than a few alarming statistics. That's why it would be the perfect place to hide." With a new found will, Matthew finished his poutine, and hugged Winny. "I'm sorry that I've been like this. All this political shit and close proximity to Alfred has left me really stressed and angry. I was stupid leaving everyone to fend for themselves, but I didn't want Drake to end up like some of those states Alfred raised. Some say I did a bad job with you guys, but Alfred did worse with some of the states. It really wasn't all his fault, but..."

"They certainly are...charming. But they're not that bad these days." Winny muttered. "I'd rather spend a day with some of them over an hour visit from Sam. I've always wondered why Saskatchewan can be so freaking boring, but Sam is always a menace to society. You are aware he's gotten so bored lately that he decided to become a pirate that steals from farms, right?" Matthew shook his head. "No? Well, when you come back home, I should update you more on that." He pulled Matthew off of him. "Now go save your partner and son."

* * *

"'Man wearing bowtie wanted for destruction of property in London, Ontario'...there's something suspiciously familiar about that." Drake said to himself, stuck in front of a bulletin board. "'Reports say he claimed to be a doctor.'" His older companion nodded, really wanting to just keep going.

"The question we're all wondering is 'Doctor who?'" He said, before grabbing the child's shoulder as confusion crossed Drake's face. "Your dad isn't too far away now." He led Drake away from the bulletin board and down the hall. Paintings watched them as they walked, muttering to themselves and to their fellow paintings. Drake looked at them with wide eyes, as he hadn't seen paintings like them since he was much younger, and all of those ones were nasty. These paintings seemed at least a little more pleasant.

They stopped in front of a heavily barricaded door, which had a sign on it. "'Caution! Do not open, for the love of anything good!' This it?" A yell from inside, and the door swinging into the wall despite the barricades as a terrified witch rushed out seemed to confirm this. Alfred F. Jones, out of all restraints and no longer under the power of any magic, was about to race out of the door after her, until he noticed Drake standing there, smiling, and he ran towards the door for a completely different reason.

"Drake!"

"Dad!"

Alfred's eyes filled with manly tears as he and Drake embraced in a loving hug. The adoptive father-son duo hadn't even been apart for a day, but in that moment, you would have thought they hadn't seen each other in years. Twirling his wedding ring, the wizard decided it was time he left the two alone, and report to the boss about the situation. There was much to talk about.

"Don't you dare go anywhere." Alfred said threateningly, still seeing them as the villains. The wizard stopped his getaway, and nodded. He knew exactly what these non-humans could do, and this country person had been mentioned as having super strength. He didn't want to be on the receiving end of that. "What are your plans with my family?" Alfred asked quite seriously. A serious Alfred is a dangerous one.

"None, really." The wizard admitted. "I'm not fully in the details, but we're not your enemies. It's the British that want Drake. They're not too happy that you took him. Luckily, they just think you're two random Americans living with American paranoia. Though,_ I_ know your friend is Canadian, since I actually read through the reports and didn't just skim them like that guy with the fudge name. They just don't always think things through. They apparently wrote Drake off as dead after only searching for a week, and never though to look outside the Islands."

"So, you're just...?" The wizard smiled.

"We're your allies. We'll help you in any way we can, so that you won't lose your kid." Well, at least the wizard was willing to help. It was all really up to the boss, but he seemed like a pleasant enough fellow. Alfred seemed to accept this statement, and gave the wizard permission to leave. He held Drake closer.

"Do you have any idea what happened to Mattie?" Alfred asked. He was worried for his friend, all alone in the middle of a strange land! Now, Alfred knew very well that Matthew was a country, yet believed he was the representative of a far off place due to his horrible geographical skills, and Matthew had given up trying to correct him for the time being. But if he'd retained the correct information, he wouldn't be worried about Matthew being 'lost' in his own country.

"Well, that one guy mentioned that they hadn't found him yet, so he's probably safe. But he can't be too happy about this."

"Yeah...he'll probably go War of 1812 on them...oh no! Mattie doesn't know that these are the good guys. I'll have to protect them until I can explain to Mattie that they're on our side!" Drake blinked, surprised that Alfred had so easily accepted that these people were trying to help. Alfred finally let go of Drake, and started pacing. "Mattie is really nice, but he doesn't like evil people, just like me! But who's the actual evil people here? The British can't really be the bad ones! Arthur's pretty nice now, and kinda chill." Drake frowned, as Arthur was most certainly not 'chill', but by Alfred's standards, he was more enjoyable to be around despite being off his rocker since a certain unmentionable by name destructive incident.

"Well, it's just one group of them. My old group! Or, maybe my group again." Drake pondered on this. Would he be forced to go to Hogwarts after this, or could the odds turn in his favour and allow him to go to some school in North America? He'd very much prefer it.

"Are you taking about wizards and magic again? Drake, don't be silly! I don't want you to be like Arthur when he's not nice and chill, always talking with those imaginary things. I worry about him sometimes! He doesn't seem to be aware of the fact that he's seeing things. I tried to bring it up at a meeting one time, but Francis, Ludwig, Lovino, and that hairy guy that's always talking to Arthur yelled at me before I could get too far into my speech."

"Maybe there's a good reason for them making you shut your trap." A vaguely amused voice said. It was not either of them who said it.

There was somebody else now standing by the door. Strawberry blond hair left to fend for itself fell past his shoulders in a disastrous mess...vibrant green eyes that looked at the two like they were the best people in the world, yet had an air of impending danger for them both...and those goddamn eyebrows...

Drake knew exactly who he was.

"Uncle Arthur!"

* * *

**The Last Saskatchewan Pirate is a really catchy song, and describes the exact situation Sam is mentioned as being involved with. I'd recommend it.**

I like the idea of Arthur with long hair, so until it gets too long and Francis cuts it out of desperation, Arthur is going to have longer hair than usual. Plus, to me, it adds to his characterization in this. Up until later, he's a total mess in this story.

Also,'that hairy guy' that Alfred mentions is Portugal. While I'm sure Himaruya will probably not feature this quality, Portuguese people are really hairy. Leg hair, arm hair, and other hair grows quickly for both men and women, and grows in thick. I should know, since I'm half Portuguese and I have these same problems. Even though it doesn't appear in official art, I'm putting it in this fanfic, because I have a problem with it not being there. It doesn't seem fair that the representation of the country wouldn't have to deal with the problems the people do.


End file.
